


Breathless

by sherlockian4evr



Series: Risqué [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: - but not for looks, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Caretaker John, Caretaker Sherlock, Corsetry, Dirty Talk, Dom!John, Face-Fucking, M/M, Sounding, sub!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5217374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More loving D/s fun!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock had been entirely engrossed in his experiment so when John left the sitting room he didn't even notice. He continued working for quite some time, finally becoming aware of the doctor’s absence when the man failed to answer his inquiry. Sherlock gave a huff of annoyance and stalked out of the kitchen. Looking around, he spied Bluebell sitting on his chair, a note tucked beneath it.

_Sherlock. When you're ready, I’ll be waiting in our bedroom. I have a surprise for you, it’s something that you asked for quite some time ago. I hope you like it._

The detective screwed up his face in puzzlement, even as a rush of arousal coursed through him. He couldn’t recall having asked for anything in this context.

Sherlock found John waiting in their room perusing his laptop. He allowed his gaze to flicker over the room but found no clue to explain his lover's note. "John?"

Looking up from his laptop, the doctor gave Sherlock a large, welcoming smile. "Hello beautiful." He closed his laptop and slid it to the floor then reached out to take the detective's hand in his own. With a quick tug, John pulled the detective to the side of the bed. "If you want the surprise that I mentioned, then come down here." He patted the bed next to his hip.

Without hesitation, Sherlock lowered himself to sit next to the doctor. The feel of John's hands as he stroked through the detective's hair was intoxicating. Sherlock leaned into the doctor's body and purred a question. "So, John, where's my surprise?"

John leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek. "We're both wearing far too much at the moment. Let's remedy that first, yeah?"

Both men stood and made swift work of removing their clothing. Once they were both naked, John shifted Sherlock so that the back of his knees were pressed up against the bed. He placed his hands on Sherlock's shoulders and pushed down gently. The detective complied obligingly and lowered himself to the bed once again.

Sherlock allowed himself to lean into John's body. He took a deep balancing breath as he nuzzled into the doctor's abdomen. "How do you want me?"

With a single finger pressed beneath the detective's chin, John tipped his lover's face upward. "Lie down in the center of the bed with your hands by your head." He watched his lover's lithe body as the man wriggled into position.

John reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out the long hunter green scarf that he had stored there earlier. At the sight of the scarf, Sherlock wrinkled his nose in puzzlement. John couldn't resist, he bent down and placed a kiss between the detective's eyes. Next, he tied one end of the scarf to Sherlock's left wrist, looped the scarf under his neck, back around and over his Adam's apple, and under his neck once more. Finally he tied the scarf off to Sherlock's right wrist. Now, if the detective pulled his wrists away from his body, the scarf would tighten around his neck, restricting his breathing. Sherlock would be able to relieve the pressure simply by relaxing his arms - the younger man would be in control the whole time.

Sherlock felt a warm tingling sensation sweep through his body. "Oh, Joohhn." He had wanted to try breathplay for so long. There had been times when he had held his breath tightly when he was just on the edge of orgasm only to feel the sensation slip away when he was forced to breathe. Still, the detective had known that John was reluctant to engage in breathplay - it was too dangerous for the doctor's sensibilities. John might not be a genius, but he was brilliant in his own way as shown by his inventiveness.

The doctor watched as Sherlock pulled the scarf tight then released it once. He could see the detective's increased arousal in the flush that crept over his body. "This is all about you, Love."  
John settled himself over Sherlock's hips and leaned down over the tall man. He laved at the detective's nipple then sucked it gently before biting down on the hardened nub.

Sherlock pulled against the scarf as the doctor teased and bit first at one nipple then at the other. The sensations were heightened by the reduced flow of oxygen into his lungs. He could feel the tugs and pinch at his nipples throughout his body as his muscles clenched in ecstasy.

John moved lower on the detective's torso, mouthing a line of kisses onto his pale flesh as he worked. When he reached Sherlock's groin, he licked and laved at the soft skin. Finally, he swiped a long lick along his lover's cock. Sherlock's hips bucked at the sensation.

As John took the detective's cock into his mouth, Sherlock pulled harder on the scarf. Now his breathing was restricted to small shallow breaths. He closed his eyes and floated in the sensations that the doctor was providing; he never wanted this to end.

John slid his mouth off of Sherlock's cock. He looked up, checking that his lover was okay. There was no distress on the detective's face, only a look of debauched arousal and need. "That's it, Love. Hold on, I'm going to take you now." The doctor grasped the lube that he had placed on the bed earlier and slicked his fingers generously.

If Sherlock had been able to, he would have moaned as John slid his finger into the detective's hole. As it was, he rocked into the doctor's touch wanting more. Sherlock pulled harder against the scarf as a second finger was added to the first - he couldn't breathe. After a moment of exquisite denial, he relaxed his arms just enough for oxygen to seep into his lungs ever so slightly.

John added a third finger to Sherlock's hole and began rocking them in and out of the detective's responsive body. "Christ, Sherlock. You are fucking gorgeous." He removed his hand from his lover's entrance and lined his cock up with Sherlock's hole.

John thrust into him and Sherlock pulled hard on the scarf once again. He revelled in the bite of the cashmere into his throat and the burning in his lungs. Each thrust of John's cock into his body was accompanied by a building pressure in his every muscle. He was completely lost in an ocean of sensation.

As John reached the pinnacle of his arousal, he reached beneath him and stroked Sherlock's cock in his strong hand. The detective's hole contracted tightly around the doctor's cock and John fell into pit of white hot orgasmic fire. Sherlock followed John closely on the heels of the doctor's orgasm, urged on by the tightened grip on his cock.

Once he was completely spent, the detective's arms went lax and he inhaled deeply for the first time in several long minutes. John untied the scarf and removed it from about Sherlock's neck. "It's a bit red, but that should fade soon enough." There had been a momentary glimmer of worry in the doctor's eyes but it receded with this pronouncement.

Sherlock didn't want to move or speak, but he needed to reassure his lover. "That was amazing, John." He pulled the doctor closer to his body and placed his head on John's shoulder. "Thank you for my surprise."

John could feel Sherlock's smile pressed against his neck. "Anytime, Love."


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock placed a slide under his microscope and brought it into focus. He needed to determine if the two fibres were from the same source, but he couldn't concentrate on the task at hand. He drew back, his hands flying to his temples in frustration. It had been days since he had had a proper case. The fibres were from a cold case that he definitely hadn't begged from Lestrade. He jumped up from where he was sat at the table, pacing into the living room then back and forth across the floor. A distraction was needed. Pulling out his mobile, he fired off a message to John.

**Come home – SH**

Sherlock stared at his mobile, waiting for a response. It took far too long for it to ping.

**Why? What's burning? - JW**

The detective rolled his eyes then started jabbing at his phone.

**Nothing is currently on fire – SH**

With a wicked smile, the detective typed out another message.

**Would you come home quicker if something were? - SH**

**Don't you dare - JW**

**I'm busy doing John shit. Sod off - JW**

Sherlock growled.

**I can't think - SH**

**I'm getting Bluebell - SH**

**On my way - JW**

John had pocketed his mobile and abandoned the shopping. He was virtually running down the pathway. It wasn't that he was a randy bastard, well, he was, but if Sherlock was having trouble thinking and he had got Bluebell, then things could degenerate fast. A restless Sherlock could easily turn into a shooting the walls Sherlock. The doctor picked up speed.

When he reached the flat, he burst in, halfway expecting it to be on fire. He wouldn't put it past an impatient Sherlock. All was quiet, however.

The detective turned to positively glare at him, Bluebell clutched tightly in his arms. "What took you so long?"

Bracing himself, John walked over to his detective and plucked Bluebell from his arms. “I understand that your brain isn’t cooperating with you right now, but I don’t deserve the look you’re giving me.” He raised his hand and cupped the back of Sherlock’s head, pulling it down to rest their foreheads together.

Sherlock gave a little shudder, wanting to relax into John but unable to let himself go. “Help me John. My thoughts are scattering everywhere.”

“Okay,” the doctor breathed. He took Sherlock’s hand and gave it a gentle tug, pulling him towards the bedroom. He stopped in the kitchen and pushed the detective in the direction of the hall. “You know what to do, Love. Go get ready for me.” John rested against the kitchen counter, contemplating what to do. Sherlock was a tense bundle of nerves, each muscle coiled tightly and ready to snap. Right then. He stopped at the loo, grabbing a bottle, before joining Sherlock in their bedroom.

The detective knelt in the centre of the bed, arms tucked behind his neck. The look on his face was one of impatience. Not saying anything, John fetched Sherlock’s collar and buckled it into place. The detective relaxed marginally, but not anywhere near enough to satisfy John. The doctor proceeded to buckle Sherlock’s cuffs around his wrists and ankles then ordered him to stretch out on his stomach. The doctor swiftly stretched Sherlock’s limbs towards the four corners of the bed and attached restraints to hold him in place. Throughout all of this, the detective had huffed and puffed his impatience.

“Hush, love. I don’t want to use a gag on you right now.” John punctuated his statement with a light slap to the detective’s arse. Popping open the bottle, he poured a generous amount of its contents along the length of Sherlock’s back.

“What are you doing, John?” the detective asked, craning his neck to look back as best as he could.

John smiled at him and gently pushed Sherlock’s head back to the matress. “You trust me, yeah?”

“Implicitly.”

“Then let me do this.” The doctor stroked up Sherlock’s long back, testing his muscles and getting a feel for where the most tenstion resided. He began kneeding the detective’s shoulders just at the juncture of his neck with firm pressure. Sherlock groaned and immediately relaxed. Working slowly and with patience, John worked each bundle of muscles, digging his thumb and fingers in deeply at the worst points of tension. The sounds that Sherlock made were obscene and made John chuckle quietly. He stroked down between the detective’s shoulder blades, along his spine and down his sides. He could feel Sherlock virtually melting into the bed beneath him. John’s hands slid down to the globes of the detective arse and gave them long minutes of attention, his hands massaging and stroking. He only stopped when he heard a small sigh and felt Sherlock go limp.

“Sherlock,” John said quietly, garnering no response. “Love,” he tried again. Very carefully he climbed off of the bed, trying his hardest not to jostle the detective. John moved to the head of the bed and peered down at Sherlock lovingly – he had fallen asleep. With quiet stealth, the doctor unfastened the restraints from Sherlock’s wrist and ankle cuffs. He fetched the duvet from where it had been discarded on the floor, shook it out and draped it over his sleeping detective.

John knew he would get an earful when his lover woke. Sherlock had very definite ideas about what should happen when Bluebell came out to play. Being lulled to sleep by a massage was not one of them. John didn’t really care. It was his job to give the detective what he needed, not just what he wanted. A small row was a small price to pay to do that. Besides, playtime would be spectacular when the shouting was done.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock charged out of their bedroom, fresh from sleep and aching for battle. "You tricked me, John!" he complained forcefully. He was about to really let go and spew forth his wrath, but one glimpse at the doctor caused him to freeze in place, his mouth hanging open.

John gave the riding crop he was holding a little twirl and brought it down to slap hard against the leather stretched across his lap. "John," Sherlock said, taking a few steps closer. He eyed the deep green leather and laces curiously. "Is that a..."

"Corset," the doctor finished for him with a grin.

Brows drawing together, Sherlock took another step, bringing him fully into the living room. "You said you had no desire for me to dress in women's clothing." He was confused, not disturbed by the idea. If that was something John now wanted, Sherlock would happily don lace knickers and a bustier.

The doctor barked a laugh. "I haven't developed a new fetish, if that's what you're asking." He stood and approached the still nude detective, tucking the riding crop under his arm and grabbing the detective by one of his wrist cuffs. "I've read that a corset can be used as a form of breath control." Lifting Sherlock's wrist, he placed a kiss just above the cuff. "It's supposed to feel confining too. I thought you might like that."

Sherlock's breathing hitched and he brought his hand up to stroke the green leather. He could smell its sharp tang. "Oh," he breathed out softly. "When can we try it, John?"

"Right this minute, Love." The doctor was grinning. He looked down at Sherlock's growing erection. "Hello there," he quipped, grabbing it with his free hand and giving it a gentle tug before letting go. As soon as he had, the detective turned his back on him, raising his arms over his head. John droppedthe riding crop and wrapped the corset around his detective. "You'll have to hold it on place while I lace it up." Sherlock dropped his arms, wrapping them around the front. Lacing the corset was no challenge for deft surgeon's hands and soon enough, Sherlock was able to let go. John gave the laces a tug, drawing the corset tight around his lover. "Alright?" he asked.

Sherlock found that his knees were shaking with anticipation. He reached out to the mantlepiece, steadying himself. "Yes, John. Tighter."

The doctor worked his fingers through the lacing, evenly distributing the pressure, then gave another tug. Sherlock gave a little grunt and closed his eyes. There was another delicious tug and his breath wheezed out of him. He tried to gasp, to no avail, his breath coming deliciously shallow. "There, John," he breathed. He could feel the motions as John tied the laces off and slid his arms around him. When the doctor's hand closed around Sherlock's cock, the detective's knees gave way. John caught him, easing him to a kneeling position on the floor and pulling him back to lean against his chest.

"Jesus! Are you okay, Love?" The doctor was fumbling between them with one hand, seeking the ends of the laces to untie them.

Sherlock let his head loll back against John's shoulder. "I'm fine." He reached back and stopped the doctor's groping hand. "Feels good," he purred. Turning into John's neck, he nuzzled there, content.

The return of John's hand to his erection, made Sherlock's toes positively curl and his hands went flying, seeking purchase. They found it on John's denim clad thighs. "Too many clothes," the detective complained.  
"Well, I wasn't anticipating quite this reaction." John laughed the brought one hand up to guide Sherlock's mouth awkwardly to his. One brief kiss later and John pushed the detective forward a bit. "One moment." The doctor stood, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair before stepping away and stripping off his jeans and pants. He didn't have to go far for what he wanted next. Lube had taken the cigarettes' place in the skull. Kneeling down behind Sherlock once again, he pinched the detective's arse. "Up, Love."

Sherlock obliged, raising up on his knees and spreading his legs as wide as he could. It all became a bit of a blur after that for the detective. The feel of John's hand at his entrance, the strong grip of his arm holding him close and the delicious restriction of breath all worked together to make his body hum. When John finally slid into him, Sherlock tried, once again, to gasp, but only succeeded in pulling a shallow breath. His hands had, found John's thighs, once more. His fingers gripped tight, anchoring him. "God, John," he moaned shifting back and pressing down on the doctor's cock.

As soon as John slid home, he brought one hand around to grasp Sherlock's erection. He could feel the detective shiver in his arms, his warm pasage fluttering around him. "You love this, don't you?" John asked between thrusts. His only answer was a moan followed by low hum of agreement. The doctor increased his pace, holding Sherlock upright and working him with his hand.

The detective needed to breathe in deeply, to pull in deep lungfuls of air, but he couldn't. He could only pant with need - so much need. Pressure was building low in his belly and he was getting light headed. John licked the long column of his neck then sucked lightly. Sparks flew behind Sherlock's eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over him and he thought, briefly, that maybe this was death. If it was, then it was welcome. His orgasm hit him like a tsunami, wave after drowning wave, pulling out a broken "J... J... John!" Falling back against the doctor, Sherlock let himself succumb to the wash of endorphins that swept through him. He luxuriated in the rocking of his body as the doctor thrust into him, over and over, and then moaned at the feel of John coming inside him.

All motion ceased except for the sweet caress of the doctor's lips against his skin. The tableau held for several long moments, then John began to move. His fingers found the laces at the centre of the corset's closure and pulled. He worked the laces loose, bit by bit, until, finally, Sherlock could draw a deep shaky breath. Completely unfastening the laces, John pulled the corset away from the detective's sweaty flesh. Easing them both to the floor, John wrapped his limbs around Sherlock and smoothed back his hair. "Good, love?" The doctor asked, a grin playing across his features.

Sherlock purred his pleasure. "No. Not good. Amazing."


	4. Chapter 4

John was awake, in fact he had been for some time, but he couldn’t bring himself to move or even open his eyes. Something tickled his nose and he reached a hand up to brush it away. Something ticked it again. With a huff, he cracked his eyes open and found himself face to face with a certain blue, plush bunny. He was looking it eyeball to beady eyeball, nose to fuzzy nose. Bluebell was abruptly pulled away and tossed across the room.

Sherlock grinned down at him. “Ah! You’re awake.”

“Yes, brilliant deduction that,” John groused, but it was good natured. No sooner had he said it than a flat leather case dropped to the bed just inches from his nose. “What’s this?”

“Sounds, John.”

The doctor in John rebelled at that and he rolled over. “No.”

Sherlock sidled up behind John, spooning him and kissing the back of his neck. “Please, John? You’re a doctor. You could do it safely.” The doctor huffed, but didn’t object further. “And I got a Hank Sound Set. The internet said it was ideal for beginners.”

Still reluctant, John sighed. “Tell me more.”

“The sounds in the set can only slide in up to 3 ½ inches. You won’t hurt me. I even ordered the proper lube.”

The doctor rolled back over and looked at him. “The proper lube?”

“Yes, it’s water based with no preservatives. It’s supposed to be safer for the urinary tract.” Sherlock kissed John’s throat. “Please, John?” He nuzzled under the doctor’s chin. “I’ve even sterilised them as per the instructions.” Letting out a long sigh, John dropped a kiss on the top of Sherlock’s head and the detective knew he had won.

“Do you have gloves and alcohol swabs?” John asked.

Sherlock jumped up and tore off his dressing gown, then his pyjama bottoms and pants. “Yes, on the dresser, along with flannels, lube and a syringe.”

John climbed out of the bed and stretched. He patted the corner of the down at the foot. “Sit here and wait for me. I’ll go scrub up.”

When the doctor returned, his hands and lower arms were pink from the thorough scrubbing he had performed. It he was doing this, he was going to be a safe about it as possible. “Lay down diagonally, Love, with your bits at the corner. Yes and spread your legs wide.” Sherlock complied with alacrity. “Perfect.”

John snapped on a pair of sterile gloves and opened one of the alcohol swabs. The detective hissed at the unique chill of alcohol on flesh as the doctor gently wiped down Sherlock’s bollocks and cock, paying special attention to the tip.

While John had been out of the room, the detective had opened the case containing the sounds and placed it at the foot of the bed. The doctor looked at the sounds for the first time, noting that they were in order of size from smallest to largest. Even though Sherlock had sterilised them, John opened another alcohol swab and wiped down each sound thoroughly.

“Are you sure about this, Sherlock?”

The detective rolled his eyes. Of course he was sure or he wouldn’t have asked John to do this.

“Right.” The doctor grasped Sherlock’s cock in his right hand, amazed at the detective’s control. John would have been hard if Sherlock had wrapped his violinist’s fingers around his penis. “I understand it feels rather strange, so try not to shift your hips.” 

John closely examined Sherlock’s cock, his thumb and forefinger spreading the slit gently. He picked a sound that wasn’t the smallest, nor was it the largest. It should fit well enough. The doctor fetched the lube from the dresser, looking at the syringe. He would use it to shoot a small amount of lube into the urethral opening.

That’s just what he did.

“It’s cold!” Sherlock snapped, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Of course it is, you git.” John smiled down at the detective who was craning his neck so he could watch. He inserted the sound he had selected into Sherlock’s slit, not forcing it, but letting gravity pull it down.

Sherlock’s hands fisted in the sheets and he let out a low hiss. The visual was amazing, he had a thin metal rod impaling his cock. He daren’t move, not a whit.

“What’s it feel like, Love?” John asked, curious.

“Like… I don’t know. Ung,” Sherlock panted. “Strange. Intrusive, but good.”

The doctor pulled on the sound, drawing it almost completely out of Sherlock’s cock. “And now?”

Sherlock’s eyes were opened wide in disbelief. “It’s slow, like an orgasm but drawn out. It’s… God, John.”

Despite his previous concerns, the doctor found himself getting hard. Sherlock was shivering and from so very little effort on John’s part. This could become addictive. Taking his time, John let the sound slide back into Sherlock’s cock and began to play with it, twisting it and pumping it gently.

The detective moaned. His lover was fucking his cock with the sound.  _He was fucking his cock._

Sherlock’s cock started stiffening, so John stopped his motions. “You need to get control of yourself, Love. We can’t continue if you get hard.”

“Please,” Sherlock gasped.

“You know that’s not how this works,” John admonished. “I won’t risk hurting you.”

After an indeterminable amount of time, the burgeoning stiffness subsided and John was able to resume his ministrations. “Shall we try the next size up?”

Sherlock managed a nod, his sweaty hair clinging to his forehead.

The doctor removed the sound and used the syringe to inject a bit more lube. Grabbing the next sound in size, he inserted it into Sherlock’s cock and began playing. The detective’s face was so expressive, shifting and reacting to every motion of the sound. It was amazing. “Next time we do this, I’m tying you up.”

“Oh, God,” Sherlock moaned, his voice going thin and shivery.

“Good?” John asked.

“Ungh,” he replied articulately as he lifted his head again and watched John continued to pump the sound.

The doctor gave a little chuckle and continued to tease Sherlock. He watched the detective’s face closely, looking for the moment when Sherlock had had enough. It came as the younger man shouted, “Fuck!” John drew the sound out of Sherlock’s cock and set it aside. He pulled off the gloves and wrapped his fingers around the detective’s cock and started stroking it. Sherlock’s response was almost instantaneous, his cock going hard and rigid in John’s hand. Just a few pumps, and he was coming, faster and more violently than he had ever come before. His cock was already oversensitive and he curled up around John’s fist, gasping.

The doctor sat and rubbed his hand along Sherlock’s side, soothing him. “Are you okay, Love?”

“Mmm.” The detective gave another shudder. “John?”

The doctor had picked Sherlock up and was cradling him in his arms. “Yes, Love?”

“I might have bought another set of sounds.”

John chuckled.

“Or two.” He cracked his eyes open and looked up at the doctor. “Bakes Sounds and Van Buren Sounds.” Sherlock grinned when the doctor tucked him back under his chin and kissed the top of his head. “Is that a yes, John.”

“Well, it’s not a no.”

“And I got a TENS machine.”

“You mad thing,” John whispered fondly, already imagining Sherlock quivering as electricity pulsed through his cock and a longer sound stimulated his prostate. The detective would definitely need to be strapped down. He wondered where all his reservations had gone. John licked his lips, “Alright, Love, alright.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been on AO3 for I year! Wow, how time flies. To those who have stuck with me as I've found my voice, thank you!

John rolled Sherlock off of him and crawled to the edge of the bed. He looked around on the floor and let out a cry of triumph. Reaching down, the doctor came up with Blubell clutched in his hand. "My turn!"

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, pulling him back down to the bed. "Is it really, Doctor Watson?" He placed a kiss to John's lips. "What do you want, John? I'll give you anything, you know that."

The doctor dove in for another kiss. It was long, slow and electrifying. Both men felt it down to their toes. Nipping at Sherlock's plush lower lip, John gave a low growl. He pulled back and looked into the detective's mesmerising grey-blue eyes. "I want this." The doctor pressed a single calloused finger to his lover's lips.

Sherlock opened his mouth and let John press his fingers inside. Sucking lightly, the detective fellated them gently. The resulting gasp that John made caused Sherlock to smile around them. He gave them one last lick, then pulled off of them.

John looked down at his lover. "You are too bloody gorgeous to be real, you know that?"

The detective preened under the praise.

Shifting up the bed, John made his way up Sherlock's long body and settled himself, sitting, over the detective's hips. "I want to fuck that lovely mouth of yours, Love. I want to feel my cock slide between those pretty pink lips and down your throat until you're choking on it. You'll be a lovely, breathless mess. Can I do that, Love?"

Eyes wide and wet lips parted, Sherlock breathed, "Yes, please."

The doctor ran his hands up Sherlock's torso, stoping to pinch and twist the detective's nipples. He played with them for a bit until they were sore and aching. Sherlock started making soft moans and gasped when the doctor pulled on them, stretching them and making them throb.

"Really?" John asked when he felt Sherlock's cock stir to life beneath him. "You just came, Love."

"It's been longer than you think," the detective gasped out. "We cuddled for a bit."

"Yes, we did." The doctor wriggled his bum against Sherlock's cock. "You are a needy, wanton little slut."

The detective glared at him, but soon enough, he let out a chuckle. "That's a new level of dirty talk, Doctor Watson."

"Is it good or bad?" John leaned down to nip at Sherlock's long throat.

The detective hissed out a breath and tilted his head back, exposing his neck for better access. "Not sure," he gasped. "You'll have to experiment."

With a chuckle, John sat back up. "We'll just see how it goes, Love." He shifted even further up the bed, placing a knee to either side of the detective's shoulders. He pressed the tip of his cock to Sherlock's lips. "Open up, slut."

Sherlock grinned and opened his mouth, tilting his head up to wrap his lips around the tip of the doctor's hard cock. He hummed happily as he sucked on just the head, the corners of his eyes crinkling with pleasure at the look on John's face.

"Oh, Love, I don't think so." The doctor pressed forward, sinking his cock further into Sherlock's mouth. He moaned with delight when he felt himself brush the back of Sherlock's throat. "Oh, God! That's..." The detective swallowed and whatever John had been about to say was cut off by another obscene moan.

Sherlock's cock twitched insistently, so he wrapped his fingers around it and gave it several pulls. It was difficult to breathe around the cock in his mouth which ratcheted up his pleasure several notches. Straining against instinct, the detective swallowed as he pushed forward on John's cock, trying to get even more into his mouth.

He was rewarded by John's fists in his hair pulling his head against the doctor's groin. The coarse pubic hair tickled Sherlock's nose, and, when he could manage to breathe, the musky scent of John filled his nostrils. The whole thing made him feel delightfully used. The only thing that could have made it better would be if John were facing the other way so Sherlock could bury his nose on the doctor's bollocks.

"Hng, Jesus!" John stopped fucking into his lover's mouth, trying to stave off his impending orgasm. In protest, Sherlock hummed around his cock, sending vibrations of pleasure through the doctor's body. "Stop, please. Don't wanna come, not yet."

Sherlock stroked his own cock a few times to distract himself, then swallowed with a wicked inner smile. He couldn't breathe, not freely and it felt absolute amazing. His body started to temble and he could feel himself nearing the brink.

With difficulty, John pulled back just a bit to allow his lover a bit more air. "I know you love choking on my cock, but you need to breathe."

With the renewed intake of air, the detective felt his pending orgasm flee and he almost cried with frustration. He tried to lift his head and take in more of John's cock, but the doctor refused to let him, holding him firmly by the curls.

"God, you really do love this, being my cockslut," John said with awe.

Sherlock nodded frantic, teasing the doctor's cock with his tongue and causing John's hips to thrust forward. He suddenly couldn't breathe, which was much better. When the doctor surrendered and began fucking his mouth again, the detective began to stroke himself in time to John's thrusts. There it was, that almost electrical tingling low in his groin. If only, if only... John stopped moving again, pulling out to let Sherlock breathe. The detective let out a plaintive cry around John's cock.

John, breathing hard and flushed, looked down at Sherlock with a smile on his face. "Just wait, Love. I'm coming this time. Should I pull out when I do or..." The detective huffed and rolled his eyes. John chuckled. "Right, then."

This time, when the doctor started moving, it was with less restraint, almost with wild abandon. He showered down praise with every thrust. "So fucking beautiful..." and "Lovely cockslut..." and "Jesus! Love you!"

Sherlock thought he might explode, no implode, the tension in his body had grown so strong. He worked his cock furiously, refusing to breath even when he had the chance.

"Oh... Oh, God. Coming." John's thrusts went wild, then his body stilled as he came in several long pulses into his lover's mouth.

Beneath him, Sherlock swallowed greedily as he stroked himself to completion. As he came, his vision went spotty around the edges and he almost passed out.

John pulled out of him and rolled to the side watching as Sherlock gasped for breath. "Are you okay, Love?" the doctor asked with concern. "Did I push you too far?"

Sherlock nodded, then shook his head, giving off mixed signals. Finally, he caught his breath. "I'm wonderful." He sidled up to John and wrapped himself around him, heedless of the mess between them. After some time, he looked at John who was looking at him fondly. "I'm glad we have Bluebell, John."

The doctor chuckled. "Me too, Love. Me too."


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a rough day for John. Everything he had done had gone unappreciated. His patients at the clinic had treated him like nothing more than a pill dispenser. The nurses had been in a bad mood. He'd decided to walk home to clear his head and had had a run in with an angry boy with an ice lolly. What happened after that went best unsaid. It just hadn't been his day.

All the doctor wanted was to take care of someone.

He came home to an empty flat and his heart sank. Going through the motions, John got a shower and changed. He made himself some tea and he sat in his chair, feeling dejected. From the corner of his eye, he saw something blue and plush. He stood to see what it was. It was Bluebell. He hugged the ridiculous toy to his chest, feeling his breaths come in great hitching sobs. Bluebell's tummy was glowing and he let out a broken laugh. John returned to his chair and sat there, stroking the plush toy absently until Sherlock came home.

The detective bounded to the seventeen steps to 221B, taking them two at a time. He couldn't wait to see John, to tell him about his day. He flung the door to the flat open wide and froze in place, his eyes locked on the doctor and Bluebell sat in his lap. Something was off. He could tell that John wasn't in a playful mood. Sherlock went into deductive mode, taking in every nuance of expression and posture that revealed so much sbout what his lover was feeling. Oh... John needed to feel useful. He needed to be the caregiver and bringing Bluebell into play would allow him to do that in a very unique way.

Sherlock let out a dramatically weary sigh and knelt in front of John. He gently took Bluebell from the doctor's hands and hugged it, then set it aside. He could be a caregiver too, by letting John take care of him. "How is it you always know just what I need?" The detective rested his head in John's lap and exhaled deeply, letting himself relax. It did feel good to kneel here with his Belstaff resting about him like a cape. It always felt good, being with John.

The doctor ran his hand through Sherlock's curls, then brought it down to his beloved's throat where he tightened his grip the merest bit, nowhere near enough to restrict the detective's breathing. "You didn't come home wanting to play."

"But you can want it too, John." Sherlock stretched up and kissed the doctor on the lips. "It's allowed. What do you want?"

"I want to make you feel good, babe. I want to make you fly. I want to hear you call out my name as you come, a quivering mess, and know I gave that to you, that feeling." John took a deep, shaking breath. "I want you to feel loved, safe and cherished."

"I feel that way all the time, John Watson. I don't need orgasms to know you love me." John started to speak, but Sherlock held up a finger to silence him. "However, I have absolutely no objection to orgasms." The detective took John by the hand and led him to their bedroom where he started to undress. Once completely nude, he knelt in front of the doctor in worshipful patience.

The doctor reached out and ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "You are so fucking beautiful. What do you want?"

The detective leaned forward and nosed at John's crotch, gratified at the bulge there. His was a strange kind of caretaking - allowing himself to be taken care of. "I want this." He licked at the seam on John's jeans. "I want to take you in as far as I can. I want to choke and gag on you. I want you to fuck my mouth and leave me breathless until we both come from it." Sherlock gazed up at John through thick, dark lashes, hungrily.

The doctor could feel the problems of the day fall away as he looked down at the gorgeous man on his knees before him. He unfastened his jeans and thrust them, along with his pants, down his thighs. He placed his hands in Sherlock's curls and guided those perfect lips to his hard and leaking cock.

The detective licked the head of John's cock, then opened his mouth and permitted him entrance. The doctor didn't waste time, but pushed in rapidly, doing just as Sherlock had requested. The detective tried to relax his throat, but sputtered and gagged, his eyes watering. John pulled back, allowing him to catch his breath. The next time, the doctor pushed forward, Sherlock was ready and accepted John's cock deeper and more readily.

The doctor felt like he could lose control and come at that moment, it was so hot and wet in Sherlock's mouth, but he didn't. Instead, he began to thrust, deep and hard, pulling out now and again so his beloved could take a rushed, gasping breath. Sherlock's lips were wrapped around him tight and it felt sinful. It felt heavenly. There were sounds too, the detective's grunts and wet, sloppy slapping of flesh against flesh. There were also the sounds of Sherlock wanking himself furiously as John fucked his mouth with abandon.

Just as Sherlock felt himself about to come, he swallowed around John's cock, then he did it again. The doctor was helpless to control himself and came down Sherlock's throat just as the detective had intended. Just a few more strokes brought Sherlock to orgasm. He saw bright flashes of light over dimming scenery, until John remembered himself and pulled out of the detective's mouth. Sherlock clung to John's legs for balance until the older man lifted him in strong arms and placed him on their bed.

"Are you alright, babe?" John asked with concern.

"Mm." Sherlock pulled the doctor down on top of him, ignoring the mess. "Yes. Are you would be the better question."

The doctor laughed. "That was all for me, wasn't it? You knew I'd had a crap day."

"Well, it wasn't all for you, but yes, I knew," Sherlock said smugly.

"Thank you." John kissed his beloved on the tip of his nose. Who knew Sherlock was so good at taking care of him? Well, now John did.


End file.
